´Animal Factory´: Surviving the Lockup One Way or Another

Published: October 20, 2000

As a director Steve Buscemi inspires actors to do some of their most finely shaded work, and in his thoughtful new film, the prison drama "Animal Factory," his performers expose aspects of themselves that are off-putting and compelling. Willem Dafoe steals the picture with his comic timing, something that hasn't happened since his turn as a military school honcho on an episode of "The Simpsons."

Low-key and slightly predatory, a tough snake who knows he owns the entire yard, Mr. Dafoe's Earl has a low-slung walk and seems to get a jolt of delight every time he runs his hands over his shiny, shorn skull: the ultimate in action haircuts. Mr. Dafoe shows a subtle caginess, and Earl grins at the unlikeliest of times.

He's a screw-up with no regrets, a man who is stingy with his wisdom. Earl offers a fatherly shoulder to Ron (Edward Furlong), a young hood who has graduated to maximum-security lockups. Earl is not motivated by altruism; he is slightly turned on by Ron's heavy-lidded good looks and fashionable junkie's frame. Earl doesn't make a move on the younger man and helps him out anyway.

"Animal Factory," which opens today at Cinema Village, seems like a prison-set version of a "Mary Worth" comic strip, following Ron through his assimilation as he is advised by Earl, who has flashes of decency. The script was adapted from a novel by Edward Bunker, the convict turned novelist turned actor whose previous novel, "No Beast So Fierce," was the source of "Straight Time," in which Dustin Hoffman gave his best performance. (Mr. Bunker has a small role here and also appeared with Mr. Buscemi in "Reservoir Dogs.")

Initially this film's vibe seems so benign and slightly out of time that you expect to see John Garfield doing curls in the yard. But it becomes apparent that "Animal Factory" deals with a dehumanization more insidious than the kind normally seen in prison movies. Even Ron, who looks like such a youthful innocent that you wonder if he gets carded by the warden, isn't new to incarceration.

"Animal Factory" examines how convicts devise ways to get through the oppressive days while trying to hold on to some tiny amount of dignity. It is more harrowing than most prison fare because institutional life is treated as quotidian, a norm to which most of the men have already adjusted. The shrug that the convicts have at the ready, a gesture that surfaces in the most painful way at the very end of the film, is unnerving.

Like "Trees Lounge," Mr. Buscemi's directorial debut, "Animal Factory" allows the characters to reveal themselves because they have nothing else to do with their time. The picture is startling and watchable because the apparent lassitude doesn't really mask the constant struggle for power. And the action isn't as overheated as it is in most prison dramas, like HBO's "Oz," which is so hysterical it's missing only a soundtrack by Bernard Herrmann, who composed for films including "Psycho" and "Vertigo."

The threat of rape comes from Tom Arnold, of all people, who gives his once-a-decade good performance. As a murderously businesslike con cruising Ron, he states his intentions so boldly that the usually somnolent Mr. Furlong's eyes pop wide open.

Mr. Arnold's briskness gives the performance forcefulness, and he doesn't overplay. Nor does Mickey Rourke as Jan the Actress, Earl's flamboyant and toothless transvestite cellmate, whose honeyed straightforwardness is more than just flirtatiousness. (Mr. Rourke's verbal delicacy becomes part of his come-on.)

"Animal Factory" is a picture about adapting one's instincts, and Mr. Buscemi's deftness works well in this context. He must be a student of actors' strengths, and his wiliness suits this picture.

Directed by Steve Buscemi; written by Edward Bunker and John Steppling, based on the novel by Mr. Bunker; director of photography, Phil Parmet; edited by Kate Williams; music by John Lurie; production designer, Steven Rosenzweig; produced by Julie Yorn, Elie Samaha, Andrew Stevens and Mr. Buscemi; released by Silver Nitrate Releasing. At the Cinema Village, 22 East 12th Street, Greenwich Village. Running time: 95 minutes. This film is rated R.